A Different Kind of Knight
by Rhoswen19
Summary: Moreau knew he needed a distraction if he was going to make it to San Lorenzo. He had 2 targets: the beautiful but traitorous girl & the guy whose name he still didnt know. Then another target came running out the door & he made his decision. Eliot whump


**Disclaimer**: _*Looks under the tree* Nope I still don't own Leverage or any of its characters. Damn I was really hoping for Santa to give me Eliot wrapped with a bow on top and all. Oh well, maybe next Christmas. _

**Spoilers**: There are a few details from The Big Bang Job.  
**Author's Note**: I still can't believe Eliot didn't get shot, not even once! …after that epic gun battle and I was tempted to whump the hell out of him because he deserved it. I didn't *sigh* I whumped him just enough for the others to show concern for their protector. Also enough to squeeze a lil' Eliot/Parker in there because I love them together even if the writers don't agree with me. Before I forget, thank you so much Written in Dreams for your quick but great beta job.

On with the show!

**A Different Kind of Knight**

_By: Laz_

Damien Moreau saw a beast with hate in his eyes and he didn't need to think twice about it. He was going to shoot the annoying nameless guy, but the animal running towards him was always the better option. He moved the gun away from his first target and shot a single, calculated bullet towards Eliot Spencer. It barely slowed him down enough to get himself inside the jet unscathed. The door is shut closed and for a second Moreau thinks he'll be safe for a while. He knew the day would come when Spencer would become a liability but that day wasn't today. He leaned back in his seat and relaxed. He would be in San Lorenzo in a few of hours, and trouble couldn't follow him there with a bullet inside.

Meanwhile, the Italian was shocked, she could not believe the man got shot and he still kept on going. Back in the warehouse he did the same, focused on the task at hand, forgetting about other distractions. He was so determined to tear Moreau's head off, it was scary. The only thing that got through to him was Mr. Ford planting himself in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders and in complete seriousness telling him "I got other plans for him." This man was a protector. Almost like a knight… He was growling and fuming, the anger that rolled off of him was intense, but those words seemed to allow him some control of himself. He settled down somewhat but was still unbelievably angry.

"Eliot?" Nate asked cautiously.

"I'm fine," he growled.

"You're bleeding, Eliot." He looked down and saw blood seeping down his leg. The pant leg was already soaked as gravity forced the blood the only way it knew. It didn't change anything; he was still pissed at himself for letting Moreau slip through his fingers. He took off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his thigh; it would slow down the bleeding some until he was back at his safe house and he could deal with it properly.

"It's nothing."

"We still need to take care of it," said Nate. Trying to be the voice of reason.

"You guys should probably leave before law enforcement officers arrive."

Nate nodded. "And the rest of the team is here just in time."

As they walked towards them, Eliot asked Nate with pain tainting his voice, "The rest of the team…they don't need to know what I did."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

As soon as Sophie saw the bloody footprints Eliot was leaving, she got all mama bear and started asking too many questions at once and demanding Nate and Hardison help him out. Hardison just raised his eyebrow at her.

"Nah uh! Nana taught me not to go helpin' out hurt stray dogs 'cause they could go bite your hands off and they could have rabies." He looked at Eliot before continuing his rambling. "He may not be a stray dog no more but he could have rabies." Plus he needed his hands to do his thing and he wasn't going to risk them.

Sophie ignored him and talked directly to Eliot. "We should get you to a hospital."

Out of nowhere, Parker said, "Hospitals ask questions. Lots of questions," which stunned Sophie a little, not because it was random but because Parker was siding with Eliot; and while Sophie didn't understand it, he appreciated it.

"I don't need no hospital. I got it."

"You cannot be serious," replied Sophie with an incredulous look matching her tone.

"Guys, we need to move."

Arguing was pointless at the moment. The only way they could force Eliot to go to the hospital was if he was unconscious. So they did the sensible thing: they got in the car and kept arguing. Nate drove away from the sirens and the multitude of cops gathering at the aircraft field. Eliot could hear them talking and it was annoying him. He was never much for talking, so he leaned back and closed his eyes, shutting out the voices. He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder gently. He knew that hand. It belonged to the only person in the car not discussing options, plans, and whatnot. It was a simple gesture but it touched him to the core, especially now that he felt so emotionally invested. He moved his head towards the hand, placed a tender kiss on it and went back to his previous position. She never removed her hand. The rest were so caught up in their conversation they didn't notice the touching gesture.

He was pushing through the pain like he always did, but he was growing weary. It wasn't the gunshot wound; it was his past catching up to him like it did. He wished Nate had listened to him when he told him they weren't ready, but there was no going back now.

Sometime later Eliot felt himself dosing off, probably going into shock because of the blood he was losing. Parker's hand was still on his shoulder; she saw how still he was, so she moved her hand just enough to touch the side of his neck and feel his temperature. He felt cool and sweaty. He was always sweaty after a fight but it had been a while since that. Since Eliot had been teaching her enough about first aid, she knew that wasn't a good sign.

"I need to get out now." They all turned to look at her except for Nate who looked at her through the reflective mirror.

"Now, Parker? You want to get out now?" he said, somewhat irritated.

"Yes," she replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Just take Eliot to the apartment. I'll meet you guys there." Sophie and Hardison were still looking at her like they always did when she got one of her crazy ideas. Which to be honest was most of the time. Nate just looked into her eyes as the words came out. "Trust me," she said, and he did.

It took them a few more minutes to get to the bar. When they did, they went in through the back door to avoid suspicions. Neighbors everywhere are known to be nosy. This time Eliot allowed Hardison to serve as his crutch, not because he couldn't walk on his own but because he knew if he did the wound would start bleeding heavily again and he needed to avoid that.

"This is bloody insane," said Sophie as she opened the doors clearing the path for the boys.

"We've been over this before, Sophie."

"I know we have, Nate, still doesn't make it right. There are other options you know."

"This is not my first rodeo, darlin'—you just gotta trust me when I say I got it." They went in the apartment and Nate told Hardison to take Eliot to the couch.

"And how do you propose we take care of that bullet wound, Eliot?"

"With these!" announced Parker, startling everyone.

"Where did…" Hardison began to ask but then interrupted himself. "Never mind." She came running down the stairs and deposited everything on the table in front of Eliot.

"I think I got everything."

"I think so, too." He gave her one of his charming smiles and for her it was better than him saying "good job."

"Okay, guys, I can take it from here."

"I'm gonna go gather some info… somewhere else," said Hardison grabbing his laptop and disappearing into the bedroom. He did not want to see what would happen next.

"I'll go heat some water or something…" said Sophie, and she too disappeared.

"Parker?"

"I'm helping out."

"Are you sure?"

"She knows how…I taught her."

"Okay." Nate took a deep breath. "Maybe you should be lying down."

"Maybe you should hurry up," Eliot said in a gruff tone, but still complied. He could take care of it himself like he had always done, but since they were making a big fuss about it, he would do anything to get it over with faster.

The new position allowed Nate more access to the injuries so he could avoid causing the young man any unnecessary pain. He removed the bloodstained shirt and began cutting away the pants' leg as high as he could. Eliot had been sitting for a while and some of the blood had dried up, making his pants stiff and pulling on the damaged skin. It made him groan in pain as it was removed. Nate inspected the injury and found a somewhat circular hole, which still oozed blood. He followed the trajectory and found the point of exit on the back of the thigh which was also bleeding. While Nate probed the wound to determine the damage the bullet might've done, Parker inserted an IV into Eliot's arm to replace the fluids he was still losing.

"It's a through and through. You got lucky this time." Eliot just nodded. Never minding the pain he was just exhausted.

Nate injected a small dose of morphine in the IV; only a small dose because he knew the hitter hated how it dulled his reflexes and made him sluggish. Parker placed the sewing kit next to Nate while he cleaned the wound using saline. The point of entry was small and tidy, given that Eliot was shot with a 9mm. Nate shook his head and carefully applied ointment; the skin showed regular edges so it didn't really require sutures. Then he moved to the exit wound, which was larger and whose edges were jagged. The projectile sure made a mess when it left the body. Carefully he stitched the skin together like many years ago Eliot had done for him on the bank job. When he was done, he placed gauze on each side and then bandaged the wounds. Parker had assisted him beautifully; Nate almost couldn't believe it.

"Thanks," said Eliot. Even though his voice sounded drowsy, he looked directly into Nate's eyes like he always did when he wanted to say more without actually saying anything.

"Don't mention it. Now rest, you're going to need it." Eliot nodded once more and closed his eyes again. The fight, the blood loss, and the con were taking their toll on him. He drifted into darkness.

Sophie helped out cleaning everything as quietly as possible so they wouldn't disturb the injured man. Nate went in search of a whiskey bottle—drinks were overdue. They were going up the stairs when Nate saw that Parker was staying guard sitting on the coffee table in front of Eliot. "Parker?" She gave him one of those innocent looks and whatever Nate was going to ask her died on his lips. "You did good," he complimented instead. They both did. He took a sip from his drink and just thought about how much they took for granted, especially Eliot. He always protected them, no matter the consequences, and it was a painful, thankless job. He ought to do something about that…

Hours later the hitter woke up feeling like he had slept forever, yet he was still tired. His throat was dry and it burned to swallow, and his leg felt like someone had shoved a fire poker through it. He welcomed the pain, though, because it meant he was alive. He noticed there was a warm presence pressed against his side. He could smell her shampoo: sweet honeysuckle. He forced his eyes open, blinking the blurry surroundings into focus.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself."

"You growl when you sleep."

"I'm not replying to that. Where's the team?"

"Around. They were pretty worried, especially Sophie."

"That's 'cause she's only used to seeing bumps and bruises, nothing like this."

"Don't scare me again, Eliot."

"You know I can't promise you that, darlin'…"

"Oh I don't mean that."

"Then what'd you mean, 'cause you're losing me here."

"In the park, when you were talking. I can deal with you hurting here." Her hand hovered on top of his thigh and for a second he was scared she was gonna poke him like she usually did when she found a sore spot. But she didn't. "It's when you hurt here that I don't know how to help." She gently put her hand on his chest on top of his heart.

"It's like Sophie said, you know, we all have our pasts; it's just harder for us to deal with it, 'cause we've been working alone for so long. I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to." He kissed the top of her head.

"I know, breakfast?"

"It's late, isn't it?" She shrugged. "Cereal?" She raised her eyebrows at him with a mad smile and went into the kitchen.

"There's something wrong with you," he said, but smiled despite the harsh tone.

_Finis_


End file.
